When Everything Quiets Down
When everything quiets down, except the song of the birds
and behind them the branches singing as they sway
and after them the wind renews the airs
sweeping what was and blowing what will be
When everything quiets down, except the breeze enveloping
with gusts caressing the outlines
and return the magic of subtle certainties
moving around without shape nor name
When everything quiets down, except the charm of breath
fleeing away from prisons to return to its nest
hidden among breezes the wind is taking
where wings that never left dwell
